All is Not Gold
by MagicSwede1965
Summary: After a fan's illusions about her favorite movie star are shattered, she's surprised by his reaction. Follows 'Dream Lover'.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _Once again…thank you to all who read this and my other stories, and especially to all the reviewers. I think it's time to reiterate the disclaimer:_ Fantasy Island _and Mr. Roarke are the property of Sony Pictures Corporation and the creations of Gene Levitt, Leonard Goldberg and the late Aaron Spelling. Thank you, Mr. Spelling, for producing this TV show that was such a big part of my high-school years and from which I still get so much enjoyment…

* * *

_§ § § -- January 23, 1998

It had taken some doing, but most of Leslie's friends had managed to make it to lunch at a sandwich shop in town that Friday. To be sure, they were accompanied by several children, but the shop had a small supervised play area where kids could expend their energies while their mothers got a break. So Brianna Harding and Noelle Tokita, both almost four, and Alexander Tokita, almost six, were playing with various toys there while ten-month-old Craig Omamara and nine-month-old Cristina Ordoñez crawled after balls that the supervising employee rolled across mats for them. The children's mothers, Lauren Knight, and Leslie sat around a table in the largest booth in the shop.

They'd chatted about the kids for awhile, teased Lauren about when she was going to have a baby, then turned to Leslie and asked about the upcoming weekend. Leslie shrugged. "Nothing really remarkable," she said. "No time travel or potions or anything like that. Just some run-of-the-mill stuff. Of course, we do have that film crew shooting around here, so maybe it's just as well."

"What film crew?" Lauren asked.

"It's for Devin Reilley's new movie, _Beneath a Tropical Moon_," Myeko put in with an eager look. "I get to interview him tomorrow, and I can't wait!"

Maureen laughed. "Some cushy job you've got, Myeko Sensei," she said. "And I guess you're going to try to make a good impression on him, huh? After all, he was voted Bachelor of the Year last year."

"He's a movie star—he'd never notice the likes of me. I'm just hoping he'll give me his autograph," Myeko said. "I'm more worried about bumping into Clark there, since he's probably in charge of providing security." The others looked at each other surreptitiously. The previous spring, Sheriff Clark Mokuleia had split up with Myeko in a rather emotional episode, and she still flinched whenever there was any prospect of her seeing him. When news had reached the island in November that Toki had married his Hawaiian girlfriend, it had made Myeko almost completely distrustful of men, even though Toki's child-support checks now came with faithful regularity.

"Only two more years and he'll have to run for sheriff again," Camille said in what was clearly meant to be a comforting voice. "Maybe somebody'll unseat him and he'll have to move off-island."

"Don't get my hopes up," Myeko said. "Actually, after the way we broke up, I just don't want anything to do with him. I mean, he could've told me…"

"He did," said Leslie gently. "It's not your fault that the sheriff fell for his old girlfriend, you know."

Myeko sighed. "Then why do I feel like a failure?"

Maureen said astutely, "Because you're thinking it's something about you that repulsed the guy so much he thought it was time he came clean."

Camille looked amazed. "Is that what happened? Wow."

"But I was nuts about him," Myeko finally protested, giving Camille a wounded look. "I really thought he might be it, and the kids loved him. Noelle still asks why he never comes over anymore—she's too young to understand."

"That doesn't mean you can't find someone else," Tabitha said. "Don't worry about the sheriff. Look what happened to Michiko's sister Reiko. After she went to visit Michiko on Arcolos, she had that fairy-tale romance with Prince Errico's younger brother and got married, and she's blissful, according to Michiko."

"That's great for Reiko," Myeko said, "but it doesn't help me. I don't want to leave Fantasy Island. I was born and raised here. Why would I want to live someplace else? Is Mr. Roarke planning a singles bar for the guests anytime soon, Leslie?"

Leslie laughed. "Not that I know of, and I wouldn't hold my breath waiting if I were you. Singles bars are already passé for meeting people. It's my understanding that dating clubs and even some online dating websites are the way to go."

"There's that," Camille agreed. "And since you're so determined to stay here on the island, I'd think you'd be a great catch for any guy who ever dreamed of living here."

"Ha. If it worked that way, I'd already be remarried." Myeko bit into a sandwich as if she wanted to hurt it. "If you ask me, I'm better off this way. Any guy who doesn't like me the way I am can take a hike. And he has to accept my kids, or he can take not only a hike but a flying leap too." She grinned reluctantly when her friends laughed. "Okay, well, I've actually pretty much decided that since Clark and his girlfriend are both from Hawaii, he'll wind up going back to be with her when his current term as sheriff runs out—and like you said, Camille, it's only another couple of years."

"He could always resign," Camille said, grinning.

"I _wish."_ Myeko swallowed back a large gulp of her coffee. "I say we change this subject. When in heck is Katsumi going to quit her job, Leslie? She's so pregnant her kimonos don't fit her anymore, even without the obi."

Leslie giggled. "I think she's going to have to quit after today. I paid her a visit at the teahouse on my way here, and she looked kind of green, if you know what I mean. The baby was kicking her—I could actually see it even through her blouse! Can you imagine watching this little bump appear and disappear like that? It was _weird_, you guys! No wonder poor Katsumi looked so sick. That baby's such a little place-kicker, I bet you anything it's a boy."

"Craig kicked me like that," Camille recalled.

"Eeeeewwwww," Lauren snorted, rolling her eyes. "And you insane people think I ought to get pregnant." All six of them burst out laughing.

The waitress appeared at their table then and smiled. "Miss Leslie, there's a telephone call for you—it's Mr. Roarke."

"Oh…excuse me," Leslie said apologetically. "Sounds like duty calls." Maureen and Tabitha slid out of the booth and she made her way out to take the call, accepting the receiver of a telephone located at the cashier's station. "Hi, Father, what's up?"

"I have word that Devin Reilley's agent and publicist are on the charter that's due in the next five minutes. I apologize for interrupting your time with your friends, my child, but they'll need someone to escort them to the hotel, and unfortunately the crew from Hollywood has made use of more of our employees than I had anticipated. Will you meet the plane for me? Once you've escorted Mr. Reilley's contingent to the hotel, you'll need to find someone to replace Mrs. Miyamoto at the teahouse. Her husband just called me from the hotel and informed me that she has gone into premature labor and is in the hospital."

"Wow," said Leslie. "I'll tell the other girls—they might want to wait at the hospital and keep Chef Miyamoto company when he gets there. Okay, Father, consider it done."

"Thank you, Leslie," Roarke said, sounding relieved. "As I said, I am terribly sorry it's such a last-minute thing."

Leslie grinned. "Oh, it's not that bad. Just as long as I don't have to see Devin Reilley himself, I can handle anything." Roarke laughed and they signed off.

§ § § -- January 24, 1998

Leslie had reason to remember that last comment to her father the following morning when they stood at the plane dock watching a nondescript young woman making her way down the landing ramp. "She looks star-struck," Leslie said.

"You're more on the mark than you realize, Leslie," Roarke told her. "That is Miss Josie Waring, who comes from Bala Cynwyd, Pennsylvania. She is a devoted fan of Devin Reilley, and is here to realize her fantasy not only of meeting the man, but marrying him."

"You've got to be kidding!" Leslie exclaimed. "Who in their right mind would want to marry Devin Reilley? He reminds me of the late Russell St. Anthony, the way he treats people. She must be a firm believer in studio whitewash."

Roarke chuckled, watching Josie Waring step onto firm ground and pause a few feet away from the dock, enjoying her dripping tropical drink and trying with wide, enraptured eyes to take in all the scenery at once. "There is no doubt whatsoever that Ms. Waring will learn that on her own, in due time. What she does with the knowledge, however, remains to be seen. My only hope is that she is not too deeply disillusioned." With that, he accepted his glass and raised it in the weekly greeting, while Leslie shook her head, feeling very sorry indeed for their latest guest.


	2. Chapter 2

§ § § -- January 24, 1998

Josie Waring was about five feet seven inches tall and some twenty-five pounds overweight, with wispy, chin-length hair of a caramel color, light brown eyes and a shy smile that showed a few slightly crooked teeth. "So when do I get to meet Devin Reilley, Mr. Roarke?" she asked eagerly, speaking rapidly in an excited alto voice.

Roarke smiled. "Have a little patience, Ms. Waring," he requested. "Surely you'd like to unpack and freshen up before you meet him."

Josie grinned sheepishly. "Well, yeah, I guess that'd be a good idea," she admitted. "But I can't wait to see him, and I'm just wondering how much longer I have to wait before I get my fantasy."

"There is one thing I must impress upon you," Roarke said, growing solemn. "While it was not very difficult for me to arrange a meeting for you with Mr. Reilley, I have no way of guaranteeing that you'll realize the other part of your fantasy."

"You mean to marry him?" Josie asked and beamed. "He's such a nice guy, from everything I've ever read about him…and the more I've learned about Devin Reilley, the more in common I find out I've got with him. How could we not be soul mates? Just give me enough time around him, and he'll realize it too, once he gets to know me." Leslie and Roarke gave each other amused, skeptical glances, which Josie missed. "When can I meet him?"

"I have arranged for you to have a late lunch with him," Roarke told her. "Due to his shooting schedule, he has irregular hours, so you will not be eating until two o'clock this afternoon. At one forty-five, a driver will be at your bungalow to take you to the pond restaurant where you will be dining." He smiled at Josie's delighted gasp. "I hope you will enjoy your time with Mr. Reilley, but do remember…I cannot control the man's emotions, so it is utterly up to him, and fate, as to whether your entire fantasy will come true."

But Josie was giddy at the prospect of meeting her idol at long last. "Don't worry, Mr. Roarke, it's going to be the greatest experience of my life! Thank you so much for doing this for me…you can't imagine how excited I am!" She giggled dizzily, waved at him and Leslie and tripped up the foyer steps and out the door.

"Yikes," Leslie said, shaking her head. "There goes the biggest case of impending disenchantment I've ever met up with."

"I'm afraid you're right, Leslie," Roarke agreed regretfully. "Unfortunately, too many lessons must be learned the hard way, and this is likely to be one of them."

‡ ‡ ‡

At about twenty past one that afternoon, Roarke and Leslie pulled up to a temporary beachside set just outside the fishing village, where the film crew had set up camp and had been busily filming assorted outdoor scenes for the last week and a half. They stepped out of the station wagon and made their way towards a large, nondescript-looking beige tent that housed the actors when they weren't shooting. Two island policemen stood near the entrance, relaxed but watchful; they smiled greetings at Roarke and Leslie as the latter two approached the tent entry.

"Hello, officers," Roarke said. "We have an appointment."

"Go on in, Mr. Roarke and Miss Leslie," one of the cops said and gestured at the entry. Roarke pushed the door flap aside and let Leslie precede him into the interior, which was surprisingly cool due to heavy-duty air conditioning. Several people turned to see who had come in, and two of them detached themselves from the group and hurried to meet them.

"Mr. Roarke, Leslie…hi," said the man, shaking their hands in turn. The woman followed suit. "Is it time for Devin's lunch appointment already?"

"Yes," Roarke said. "Has he completed the interview?"

At that precise moment Myeko Sensei emerged from behind a free-standing wall of the type found in office cubicles. "He has now," she said, looking a touch disgruntled and stuffing a small notebook into her shoulder bag. She glanced at the man and woman, gave Roarke a quick nod and fleeting smile, then leaned in towards Leslie and whispered, "Good luck. The guy's an unbelievable grouch."

"Oh, an improvement," Leslie whispered back, and Myeko exited the tent, snickering. Roarke raised an eyebrow at them; the man and woman looked a little embarrassed.

"Well, if you'll wait just a moment," the woman said, "I'll go back and let Devin know you're here." She left; the man sighed and shook his head.

"I sure wish we'd had a chance to enjoy your island, Mr. Roarke," he said wistfully. "Some of the crew have been checking it out during their downtime, and they all say it's utter paradise. But Carole and I…well, being part of Devin's regular entourage, we just can't seem to get any time to ourselves and have a look around."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Reilley," Roarke said. "Perhaps you'll be able to attend our weekly luau this evening. All guests are welcome."

"Reilley?" Leslie asked in surprise.

The man smiled ruefully. "Yup. I'm Devin Reilley's brother Steve—and I'm also his agent. Our sister Carole is his publicist. Sorry we didn't have the chance to introduce ourselves properly yesterday when you met us at the plane, Leslie. The luau sounds great…we'll do our utmost to get there. Uh…that reporter who just walked out…will she be there?"

Leslie looked at Steve Reilley in surprise. "I don't know. I can ask her—she's a friend of mine." Just then Carole Reilley came out with Devin right behind her; the actor looked as if he were being marched off to undergo Chinese water torture.

"And how long is this miserable lunch supposed to last again?" Devin Reilley demanded impatiently. "I've got work to do here, you know."

"Half an hour, Mr. Reilley, no more," Roarke assured him.

"You seem so sure of that, Roarke," Devin said, rolling his eyes. "If it isn't done by then, I'm going to leave anyway. Steve, phone the order ahead, willya, and tell them I want my usual—done better than they did it yesterday."

Steve sighed. "I'll look into it, Dev." He tossed Roarke and Leslie an apologetic glance and departed.

"Take it easy, Dev," Carole said. "Don't forget, you wouldn't be where you are without your fans. And I hear this one's dying to meet you."

"Aren't they all," Devin muttered, curling his lip. "So who is it this time?"

"Her name's Josie Waring," Leslie replied. "She's from Pennsylvania."

Devin glanced at her without interest. "That's nice. Well, come on, let's go." He swept out the doorway; Carole shook her head.

"Interviews always make him irritable," she said, shrugging. "I'm really sorry, Mr. Roarke, but I suppose the heat's getting to him."

"In an air-conditioned tent?" Leslie asked, amazed.

Carole grinned crookedly. "He just now left it for the first time today. He's been complaining about having work to do, but in reality he's held up the shooting schedule all day so far. We've been trying to get an AC unit into the beach-hut-interior set so we can at least get some of the indoor scenes done."

"I'll take care of that for you," Roarke offered, and Carole beamed gratefully.

"Would you, Mr. Roarke? You'd be a lifesaver. Thank you so much for all your help and hospitality…we haven't seen much, but what little we did see is gorgeous. I apologize in advance for the flak Devin'll be giving you on the way to the restaurant." Roarke and Leslie looked at each other in surprise, but neither commented.

Steve returned and smiled wearily. "We appreciate the break you're giving us, but I have to admit I feel sorry for whoever Devin's lunch date is. Thanks so much."

Roarke and Leslie replied acknowledgment, excused themselves and slipped out of the tent. Devin Reilley sat in the middle seat of the station wagon, glaring at the pair as they approached. As soon as they had settled into the car, he started right in. "My sister said we were supposed to get an air conditioner for the beach-hut set. How come we haven't yet? I gotta tell you, Roarke, your people sure aren't on the ball. Are we going to that same place I ate at yesterday? Cripes, I hope not—the chef needs some cooking lessons, if you ask me. And the hotel suite wasn't clean enough when I came back from shooting last night. Not only that, but…" He carried on relentlessly all the way to the pond restaurant; Leslie sat in an increasingly grim silence, constantly reminding herself not to give him a piece of her mind. Roarke, on the other hand, maintained a pleasant expression, as though Reilley were speaking in some foreign language he couldn't understand.

"Here we are, Mr. Reilley," Roarke said, coming to a stop next to the front pier walkway to the restaurant entrance and neatly cutting Reilley off in the midst of a word. "Since you are already familiar with this establishment, I trust you need no escort inside."

"And what if I get mobbed by fans?" the actor riposted.

"Our employees are well aware of your presence here," Roarke said, "and they know their jobs. You will be undisturbed."

Reilley sighed. "Okay, whatever." He slid out of the car and strode down the pier without another word. Roarke put the car in gear and made a U-turn.

"I hope he gets a raging case of indigestion," Leslie muttered, and Roarke gave her a glance of mock reproach—with a twinkle in his eye that she didn't miss—as he pulled back onto the Ring Road.

Devin Reilley entered the restaurant and paused in the foyer. "I'm supposed to be meeting someone here. Is she here yet?"

"Yes, sir, she's waiting at our best table," the maitre d' said politely. "Please follow me." Devin trailed the man through the main dining room and to a partially secluded table surrounded on three sides by waist-high walls topped with carved wooden railings that stretched to the ceiling. "Mr. Reilley, Miss Waring, please enjoy your meal." The maitre d' waited till Devin had seated himself, then bowed and made himself scarce.

Devin Reilley settled into his chair and then got a good look at his lunch companion. Josie Waring, wide-eyed and broadly smiling, exclaimed, "It's terrific to finally meet you, Mr. Reilley! I'm Josie Waring…just call me Josie."

"Sure, hi," Devin said halfheartedly, mentally bracing himself for the ordeal ahead. Yet another fawning female fan—and this one was plainer-looking than most, he thought. They all acted as if they were best buddies or something, and it was already clear to him that this one felt the same way. They'd jump through hoops for him and agree with everything he said, and he was invariably bored silly. This lunch date looked to be the latest in a very long and tedious string of them. Did it never end?

For her part, Josie was so excited that her hands trembled when she reached for her glass of water and gulped some back. She'd mentally rehearsed for so long what she'd tell this man when she finally met him…and now that she had, she was speechless. He was looking at her as if he expected her to say something, so she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "You're even better-looking in person."

"Is that so," he mumbled, letting his gaze wander.

_Good one, Josie, congratulations, _she thought, annoyed with herself. _Let's see if you can make yourself look even dumber now._ "I read you were born in Philly," she said. "I'm from Bala Cynwyd myself. Born and raised there."

"That's nice," came the distracted reply.

"My birthday's only a week after yours," Josie went on relentlessly, "and we both like Chinese, and we have the same favorite board games and TV shows…"

"You play Risk?" Devin asked, a spark of interest flaring.

"Risk?" echoed Josie, startled. "Uh…I thought you liked Monopoly."

"I play Risk, not Monopoly," Devin corrected.

Josie wilted slightly. "I'm terrible at Risk," she admitted with a self-deprecating smile. Devin's momentary intrigue petered out and he propped his chin on the heel of his hand, staring across the room again. "But I do like biking and walking…"

She snapped her mouth shut when Devin abruptly sat up and shot his hand into the air, waving at a passing waiter. "_Garçon_, get over here!" he called out, and heads turned all over the restaurant. Josie felt her face begin to heat up with embarrassed surprise. Was this really the same Devin Reilley she'd read so many glowing articles about?

The waiter registered the man's identity and detoured in their direction. "Yes sir, can I help you?"

"Yes, where's my lunch?" Devin demanded. "I've already wasted ten minutes here and my time is limited. My order was already called in, and I want it out here now."

Josie stared as the waiter nodded and gave a slight bow. "I'll bring it right out, sir." He turned to her. "And you, miss?"

"I'd like a Cobb salad, please," Josie said with a game smile, trying to make up for Devin's rudeness. The waiter nodded and left.

"Another woman on a futile diet?" Devin groaned, taking in her form and shaking his head. "Don't women ever eat anymore, for cripes' sake? Oh, but you do…" He eyed her with meaning, and Josie's cheeks grew fiery with embarrassment.

"I've been trying to lose a few pounds…" she mumbled.

"Well, keep trying," he advised. "Just don't get to where you look like a living skeleton. That's the ugliest thing on earth. Hollywood is so full of walking sticks, after a while you actually get used to them and every other woman looks like a butterball. Women have an ideal weight, and they need to stick to it." The waiter returned then with a tray which he set on the table in front of Devin and uncovered. "About time. I hope it's done properly…not like yesterday. That chef needs to go back to cooking school." The waiter winced, just perceptibly, then bowed slightly and retreated as fast as he could go. Josie peered at Devin's lunch, consisting of a heavenly-smelling lasagna and a large Waldorf salad with a tall glass of something that looked like tea, and began to wish she'd ordered more than just a salad for herself.

"That looks wonderful," she said.

"It wasn't very wonderful yesterday," Devin commented, taking a bite of the lasagna. He chewed slowly, considering, then shrugged. "Seems better this time. So, Jodie, where'd you say you were from again?"

"Josie. Bala Cynwyd, Pennsylvania," she said, a little stiffly.

"Uh-huh. Hmm, this isn't half bad. I might even order dessert this time, and if that's good, I won't complain to Roarke." Devin lifted the glass and drank deeply from it, then let out an "ahh" and actually smiled for the first time since he'd arrived. "Long Island iced tea. That's one thing this place does right. Say, Judy, aren'tcha gonna eat?"

"I'm still waiting for mine," said Josie flatly. Now she was the one who propped her chin on the heel of her hand and stared out into the dining room. She didn't want to leave without eating, but she wasn't sure how much longer she could sit here watching Devin gobbling his lunch in front of her, criticizing everyone in sight and botching up her name. If only those magazines had known what he was really like. Why did they portray him as such a terrific guy if these were his true colors?

"Well, that's pretty cruddy service," Devin said in an odd and brief burst of misguided chivalry. "Hey, waiter, where's Janie's lasagna?"

"I ordered a salad," mumbled Josie, tempted by the lasagna in spite of herself.

Devin grunted something, shoveling in a forkful of salad. The waiter came out just then and put a bowl in front of Josie; she thanked him effusively, and he smiled and departed again. She poured dressing on the salad, making Devin stop to watch, then lifted a forkful, only to pause with it halfway to her mouth when she caught him staring at her. "What?"

"All that dressing?" Devin blurted. "No wonder you're fat."

Scarlet with mortification, she dropped her fork and stared into the salad, reaching blindly for the strawberry daiquiri she had ordered before Devin's arrival and trying to hide her face behind the large glass. Devin went on eating, apparently unaware of the insult he had just delivered. She sat long enough with the glass to her lips that he eventually did take notice. "Aw, come on, Janet, go ahead and eat. You can diet, but we don't want you starving. Just don't put on so damn much dressing next time."

Without a word Josie put down the glass and began to eat, staring fixedly at a pink rose that faced her from the flower arrangement in the middle of the table. _He's an egomaniac with a superiority complex,_ she thought morosely. _Nothing at all like the fan rags said he was. Why?_

Across the table there was a muffled crack that made her look up involuntarily, just in time to see Devin wince and clap his hands around his jaw. He let out a couple of heavy curses and grabbed a napkin, spitting something into it. "Dammit, I told them to put pecans in this, not freakin' walnuts! They're too hard on my teeth! _Waiter!"_ Josie jumped in her seat, and every single human being in the building turned to glare. "That's the last straw," Devin roared, oblivious. "Roarke's gonna hear from me, you can bet on that. Between this stupid lunch date and the chef's incompetence, this has been the biggest waste of my time in ages. What're you staring at, Jilly?"

Humiliated beyond endurance, Josie finally saw red. "I'm staring at the biggest jerk I've ever met in my entire life!" she snapped, so angry she didn't think to keep her voice low. "Every word those magazines said about you is a bald-faced lie. You're a snob, a creep, and an uber-perfectionist, and you're conceited and insulting on top of that. I don't know what I ever saw in you, Devin Reilley." She snatched up her glass and, without even thinking, reached across the table and upended it, showering him with a thick waterfall of strawberry daiquiri. "And by the way," she snarled into his ear, "my name is _Josie!_ J-O-S-I-E! Think you can remember that now?" Josie slammed the empty glass onto the table in front of him and stalked out of the restaurant in a royal fury, leaving behind a stunned and dripping Devin Reilley and a roomful of enthusiastically applauding diners.

"Oh, we're so sorry, sir," blurted several waitstaff in frantic chorus, hastily trying to mop him dry and whisking away the offending salad, hovering over him. Devin blustered as usual, but there was a twinge of disbelief in it this time. For the first time in years, someone had actually stood up to him. Imagine that lackluster little nobody treating him like that! When he complained to Roarke, he thought, he was going to have to find out which bungalow _Josie_ was staying in…


	3. Chapter 3

§ § § -- January 24, 1998

"So you see, Mr. Roarke, I think I'd better cancel my fantasy," Josie concluded, still steaming a bit. "It was one thing to meet Devin Reilley, but now that I have, I wouldn't marry him if you paid me to do it."

Roarke smiled apologetically. "Much as I would like to accommodate you, I am afraid it's quite impossible. Only in the direst emergencies am I able to cut a fantasy short; and unfortunately, this one doesn't qualify as such."

"Does that mean I'm stuck with this fantasy? But Devin Reilley has to loathe me now for pouring my drink all over his head, and I know I don't want to see him again for sure. I don't see how you can _not_ cancel the dumb thing."

"Fantasies are rarely under my control once they have begun—and besides, it's only mid-afternoon on Saturday," Roarke noted. "There is time yet for many things to happen." He caught her trapped expression and relented a little. "However, Ms. Waring, I'm certain it won't be very difficult to avoid Mr. Reilley if you truly wish to do so. After all, he is busy shooting his latest film and will be occupied on the set for most of his time here. You should be able to enjoy our guest amenities without much fear of meeting him again."

Josie finally smiled. "Well, I guess I can handle that. Okay, then, thanks, Mr. Roarke. You have an amusement park on this island, don't you?" At his nod: "I haven't had a chance to visit one of those in ages, and I think it's time I cut loose and had some fun. And it's a sure bet that a crowded amusement park would be the last place a self-absorbed snob like Devin Reilley would be interested in. Thanks again, and see you later." Roarke nodded and watched her as she went out through the French shutters.

Leslie came in a moment later with the day's mail and sorted absently through it. "I just heard what happened at the restaurant," she told Roarke, who regarded her with irony. "Frankly, I say, good for Josie. On the other hand, the maitre d' and most of the waitstaff are talking about banning her from the building for the rest of her stay here. They're terrified that Devin Reilley's going to ruin their reputation by tattling to you."

"Indeed," said Roarke, shaking his head. Before he could comment any further, though, the door flew open and the selfsame Devin Reilley stomped into the foyer and down the steps, a thunderous look on his face. "Good afternoon, Mr. Reilley, how can we assist you?" Roarke inquired.

"By firing that incompetent chef at that restaurant, for one thing," Devin griped. "Yesterday he overbaked my lasagna, today he put walnuts in my Waldorf salad when I insisted there not be any. The man doesn't know how to follow orders, Roarke, and I want you to do something about it."

"I will have it looked into," Roarke said serenely. "Is there anything else?"

"Yeah, I want the name of the hotel manager," Devin plowed on. "I just went back to my suite to change clothes after that little nobody poured her drink all over me, and my room hasn't even been cleaned yet. I want the housekeeping staff disciplined for that." He paused for Roarke's acknowledgment, then hesitated long enough to make both Roarke and Leslie turn their full attention to him. "And oh yeah…give me the name of the bungalow where Josie what's-her-name's staying."

"No, I don't think so," said Leslie, very sweetly.

Devin Reilley did a beautiful double-take and gawked at her. "Huh?"

"Rumor has it that you treated her abominably, as if she were beneath you," Leslie explained in her politest tone. "Under the circumstances, I don't think it would be a good idea if we told you where she's staying. She might very well sue us for breach of privacy, and I'm sure you understand we'd prefer to avoid that." She smiled at him.

"Are you making fun of me, Leslie Hamilton?" Devin asked suspiciously.

"Absolutely not, Mr. Reilley," said Leslie. "Can I take you somewhere? The set, or your hotel suite, or somewhere else?"

Devin suddenly grinned at her. "Like maybe the entrance to hell?" he suggested cheerfully, making Leslie snap to astonished attention before both she and the actor burst out laughing. Roarke grinned, shaking his head to himself. "Okay, I admit it, I was a complete ass to Josie. I insulted her, ignored her, called her by every name except her own, and really ticked her off. I suppose I just lost a devoted fan." He sighed and swiveled a bit on one heel to include Roarke in his monologue. "But you gotta understand something, see. Ever since I got famous, all I ever deal with anymore is sycophants. People fawning all over me, breaking their necks trying to get me whatever they think I want, all in the hope that I'll do them some life-altering favor—getting them a part in my next movie, lending them money, _giving_ them money, putting them in my will, whatever. They treat me like some kind of god, and I'm positively sick of it. Thanks for standing up to me, Leslie. And, uh, I apologize to you both for the snotty things I've been doing ever since I got here." He gave Roarke a sheepish grin. "You impress me, Mr. Roarke. No matter what I throw at you, you never lose your cool or contradict me. You must be the hardest person to ruffle that I've ever met."

"Not much gets to my father," Leslie remarked, glancing at Roarke with a grin of her own. "So what's your schedule for the day? I thought you had to be back on the set."

"My co-star had to fly back to L.A. on short notice," Devin said with a shrug, "on account of some family emergency or another. So the director decided we might as well take a day off—seems some folks have been complaining that all we've done since we got here is work. Is there someplace I can get access to transportation for the afternoon?"

"We have an extra jeep we can lend you for the day," Roarke told him. "I'll have it brought around and you may go wherever you wish. And don't forget, all guests are welcome to the luau this evening."

"I've heard about Fantasy Island luaus," Devin said with anticipation. "You bet I'll be there. Thanks, both of you. But…don't forget to fire that chef." He nodded firmly and jogged out, leaving Roarke with a resigned look and Leslie throwing her hands into the air with exasperation.

‡ ‡ ‡

Josie had been having the time of her life at the amusement park, going on rides she hadn't experienced since she was a kid and enjoying the heck out of every one of them. By the time she got off the bumper cars, she realized she was overheated and perspiring, making the waterslide a very attractive option. She consulted her map of the park and set off in the proper direction, only to groan aloud when she got there and saw the length of the line. She got on the end of it nevertheless and found herself striking up a conversation with another guest from upstate New York who had come to the island to get a break from the relentless winter. Despite the line, they moved fairly quickly and the conversation helped to make the wait seem shorter.

Just as the New Yorker started off for the top of the slide, someone stepped in front of Josie, who was next. "Sorry, I'm cutting in."

The voice made Josie gasp. "You again!" she cried. "Who do you think you are?"

"Devin Reilley, of course," said the smirking actor. "I'm roasting, and I refuse to wait in line like a sheep. So I'm going next."

Hot, sweaty, and already irritated, Josie became downright enraged. "Wanna bet? Listen, you've already had your fun at my expense. Not anymore. We may be 'sheep', but we've been fair and stood patiently in line. I don't care if you're Elvis reincarnated—you don't get to cut in front of me or anybody else. Get your arrogant rear end to the back of the line and wait your turn like all the rest of us!"

"You tell him, lady!" exclaimed someone a few feet back, echoed by a few "way to go!" comments. Josie grinned, feeling her already hot face get even hotter, and shrugged. Devin Reilley eyed her with something that almost looked like respect, then shouldered into line just behind her. Complaints arose from some, but they were hastily quashed by a number of others who were impressed and intimidated by the presence of a famous movie star.

Devin followed Josie closely on her way to the top of the slide; she did her best to pretend he wasn't there, but he landed almost atop her in the pool of water at the bottom and she had to scramble out of the way before he pinned her under. She shot him one blazing look before getting out of the pool, wringing out her hair and collecting her belongings at the entrance. There, she pulled out her park map and perused it, wondering where to go next.

"Done the roller coaster yet?" Devin asked from behind her shoulder.

"Go away," Josie told him and ducked through a large group of teenagers flocking past the waterslide entrance, trying to lose him. She wound her way toward the log-flume ride, looking to get a little more watery relief from the tropical sun, and got in line.

"Good choice," Devin said from behind her. "This looks almost as good as the waterslide. Sure is hot around here, isn't it?"

"Probably on account of you blowing hot air all over the place," Josie said disgustedly. "I told you to go away. Go ride something else."

Devin laughed. "I like your sense of humor."

Finally Josie cranked around to glare at him head-on. "All right, you blowhard, out with it. Why are you following me around and complimenting me now, when at lunch you thought I was the stupidest thing on two feet?"

Devin looked caught by surprise for the first time, and rocked back on his heels, clearing his throat with noisy self-consciousness. She simply went on glaring at him, and he eventually admitted, "Because I was wrong for treating you that way, and I want to apologize. I really am sorry, Josie. And hey, look, I even remembered your name."

"Give the man a gold star," Josie muttered, turning to face front. "Beat it."

"I'm serious," Devin insisted, reaching out and revolving her back to face him again. Ignoring her outraged look, he said, "I mean it, Josie. I'm sorry for the way I treated you. Do you think you could find it in you to give me another chance? Like maybe tonight? I do need a date for the luau, you know."

Josie stood there in speechless disbelief and tried to figure out what to make of this sudden 180° turnaround. Reluctantly she admitted to herself that she was tempted—after all, she was realizing, fandom died pretty hard. Even so, what if she did accept and the same thing happened all over again? She could turn into a blithering idiot, and he'd start insulting her and calling her all the wrong names again. Did she really want that? Maybe it was better if she kept reminding herself of that lunch fiasco. Besides, getting so angry with him and his constant abuse of his star status, and hearing others' approval of her actions toward him, had given her a sense of self-confidence that she had never had before. She really should stick to her guns, she decided. If she caved in now, she'd probably regret it.

Having thought things out, she shrugged her shoulders and gave him a half-regretful smile. "Sorry, no…I've got other plans for tonight. But thanks anyway."

"Aw, come on," Devin cajoled. Josie could see in his expression that he wasn't taking her refusal seriously. "All the food and drinks are on me."

"The food and drinks at the luaus are free," Josie said dryly. "Didn't you read the website for this island before you came here? Sorry, the answer's still no." She turned back to face front and advanced forward in the line, deeply relieved when she finally reached the front and was the last person chosen for a group of four in the last empty car. Devin had to wait for the next one, which made her smirk at him and waggle her fingers in a mocking little wave. Devin rolled his eyes, and she giggled all the way through the ride.

Once it was over, she made certain to lose herself in the crowds, and decided that since she'd managed to get a head start on him, it might be a good time to go back to her bungalow and decide what to do for the rest of the day till it was time for the luau. At least there, Devin couldn't bother her.

There was an open-sided shuttle bus for guests to ride back, since the amusement park was a few miles west of the Enclave and it was too far to walk. Josie swung aboard the waiting shuttle and found a seat, watching others file out of the park gates and board. There was a lull, and the driver checked his watch and put the vehicle in gear. That was when someone burst through the gates, shouting, "Hold up, driver, wait for me!" Josie groaned softly and slid down in her seat, hoping either that Devin Reilley wouldn't see her there, or the driver would choose to be selectively deaf and leave without him. Unfortunately, neither of these came to pass, and sure enough, Devin quickly spotted her glowering at the passing scenery as he wound his way toward the back. "Aha. Thought I might find you here."

"Wow, it's Devin Reilley!" exclaimed Josie's seatmate, and Josie cringed. Had she once sounded like that? _Curse the day I ever heard of the guy,_ she thought glumly.

"Mind if I sit here?" Devin asked in his most charming voice, and the person sitting beside Josie happily gave up her place to squeeze in across the aisle. Devin gave her a sugary thanks and settled into the empty seat. "Well, well, so we meet again. It must be fate."

"It must be phenomenal bad luck," Josie grumbled, unable to resist rising to the bait.

Devin laughed. "Not for me it isn't," he said. "So how about it, Josie? Luau starts at seven and I can pick you up at quarter till, so we can get some good seats."

"No thank you," Josie replied stiffly, refusing to look at him.

Devin sighed gently. "Must not be into luaus," he remarked in a light tone. "Okay, then, here's a better idea. How about a moonlight stroll on the beach?"

"I hope you have a good time," Josie said.

Devin stared at her for a few minutes while the bus rolled along the Ring Road and rattled across a one-lane bridge over an inlet. "Tell me, Josie, what do you do for fun?"

Josie aimed an annoyed look at him over her shoulder. "Throw darts at pictures of you," she told him and turned back around, tucking her hair back behind one ear. Right now, Josie thought, if she could somehow figure out how to trade places with Devin, she would have loved to push him out the side of the bus. His laughter made her squeeze her eyes shut and clench her jaw.

"Man, where was that wit at lunch?" he chuckled. "You're turning out to be quite a lady, Josie. Oh…I never did get around to asking your last name."

"Waring," she ground out. "I told you when we first met in the restaurant."

"Right!" Devin snapped his fingers. "I remember now. Josie Waring. And hey, that's not all I remember. Your birthday's two or three weeks after mine, right?"

Josie began to grind her teeth. What was taking this thing so long to get back to the other end of the island? Her eyes flew open when the bus lurched around a corner and startled laughter erupted from some of the passengers. Devin was still talking, and she tried to tune him out, till she realized the girl who had given him her seat had snagged his attention and was regaling him with a truckload of minute trivia about herself. _Oh my God, I sounded just like that at the restaurant,_ Josie thought in chagrin. _What a babbling dingbat I was! _ The fear of repeating this behavior strengthened her resolve.

"That's great, and here's your autograph," Devin said from beside her, sounding strained. "Hope you have a nice time this weekend." The bus came to a halt just then at the entrance to the lane where the bungalows were located, and Josie immediately got up, squeezed past Devin and started toward the front. He was right behind her, and she thought about hiking to the police station in town rather than her bungalow.

"Okay, you won't go to the beach or the luau, maybe you'd like a twilight swim at the pool," Devin said. She shook her head and he persisted, "Want to try the casino then?"

"I don't gamble," Josie exploded, her temper finally breaking loose. "I don't ride horses, I don't take long jungle hikes, and I don't ride mopeds. When is it going to get through your thick skull? I don't want to go _anywhere_ with you!" She whipped away from him and fled down the lane as fast as she dared in her flip-flops.

Devin Reilley, finally defeated, gaped after her, dumbfounded. What was wrong with the crazy woman? She'd been one of his many gushing admirers just that afternoon and now seemed to think he was the dirt under her feet! Well, who needed her anyway? He began to stomp off in the general direction of the hotel, muttering to himself, liberally lacing his spoken thoughts with curses. After awhile he came to a surprised stop when he really looked at his surroundings and discovered that he was standing in front of the main house. What the heck…he could always go to Roarke. Rumor had it that Roarke had answers to just about any question you could think up. He tromped up the porch steps and banged on the door, letting himself in without waiting for a reply.

"Ah, Mr. Reilley," said Roarke, raising an eyebrow. "Would you like to come in?"

Roarke's irony was not lost on Devin, who cleared his throat and essayed a sheepish little smile that went unanswered by either of his hosts. "Just wanted to be sure I got your attention," he said, trying to sound joking.

"We aren't deaf," said Leslie. "So what brings you here?"

Devin sighed. "It's Josie Waring. She keeps turning me down for a date."

Roarke and Leslie looked at each other; Roarke's eyebrow went up again and Leslie stood there visibly stifling a smile. "I thought you found her annoying," Roarke said.

"Well, yeah, I did, at first. But…well, all of a sudden she, uh, poured her drink all over my head in the restaurant and kinda told me off, and…" He paused, flicked furtive glances at each of his hosts in turn, and at last confessed, "It got to me, right here." He patted his chest where his heart was located. "She stood up to me."

"I don't get it," said Leslie.

"I might have mentioned this before, I don't know," Devin said, beginning to stroll in a slow circle on the Persian carpet as he talked. "But I'm surrounded by a sea of yes-men. Day in and day out, it's 'Can I help you?' and 'What can I get you?' and 'May I fall at your feet again today?' and 'Let me die for you this week, Mr. Reilley!' It's sickening, I'm telling you! I mean, it'd be one thing if it were sincere, but it's not. They're just trying to ingratiate themselves with me so I'll do them some major favor. They're all a bunch of sniveling toadies, and they drive me straight to the nut house. They carry on like I'm a flipping demigod, for crying out loud. You see? All I really want is someone who'll carry on a normal conversation with me and act like a regular person."

"Ah," murmured Roarke and Leslie in simultaneous comprehension. Leslie added, "So where does Josie Waring come into this?"

"Apparently I pushed her over a line, and now she wants nothing to do with me. She keeps telling me to bug off, get lost, make tracks, and so forth. I've asked her to come with me just about every place on the island I can think of, and every single time, she says no. I'm about ready to tear out my hair. When she walked out on me in the restaurant, I realized that that was one person who'd decided not to be intimidated, or fascinated, by me anymore. I knew if I went too far, she'd have no trouble shoving me right back. She acted like I'm a real person, you see? I can't let her go. She may be the only person I ever find who can do it without even thinking about it. And I gotta make her part of my life."

Roarke smiled slightly. "That's as may be, Mr. Reilley, but since you say Ms. Waring has repeatedly turned you down for an evening out, it's clear that she doesn't agree. I think, in the face of that, you might be well-advised to do as she asks and let her be."

Devin stopped short. "Are you kidding? I'll never see her again!"

"It's still early in the weekend," Roarke told him, his smile widening a fraction. "My advice is that you exercise a little patience. Give the lady time to cool down and think things over, and perhaps the situation will change. In the meantime, why don't you do some sightseeing, and take your mind off the problem? After all, as long as you have the day free, it would be quite a shame to waste it, would it not?"

"Yeah, I suppose so," Devin said grudgingly. "I'll tell you frankly, for advice it's pretty lousy, but it looks like I've got no choice."

Leslie nodded. "Afraid not. As the song says, you can't always get what you want."

Devin gave her a long look which she returned easily, then grinned at her. "I like you, Leslie Hamilton. You've got backbone—good for you. I only wish you hadn't quoted that particular song, because I just plain _hate_ that group. Oh well, anyway, thanks." And with that, he walked out.

Leslie met Roarke's amused regard and observed, "No question about it. He's in love." Roarke laughed agreement and reached for the ringing telephone.


	4. Chapter 4

§ § § -- January 24, 1998

As always, there were many happy faces at the luau that evening. Josie arrived about eight-thirty, looking warily around for Devin Reilley, and nearly bumped into someone as a result. Both apologized hastily, then got a good look at each other. Josie gasped. "I thought I said…oh, no, wait a minute, I'm really sorry…I almost chewed you out. I've had a hard time keeping Devin Reilley out of my sight, and you look an awful lot like him."

"That's because I'm his brother Steve," the other man said, laughing. "Don't apologize, I understand. Hey, were you Devin's lunch partner today?"

"Sadly, yes, I was," Josie admitted, and Steve Reilley laughed again.

"If it's any consolation, Devin's been spending the whole evening moping around his hotel suite, wondering how he can get back into your good graces. When my sister and I left the hotel suite, he wasn't sure if he was coming over here, so you might manage to avoid him yet. Good luck."

Josie grinned. "Thanks." Steve watched her blend into the crowd, then shook his head to himself and resumed his efforts to get back to a table where he had left Myeko Sensei a few minutes ago to get drink refills.

As for Myeko herself, she was beaming up at Leslie, who had just stopped by her table. "I can't believe what polar opposites Steve and Devin Reilley are," she was telling Leslie. "Steve's the nicest guy. I wanted to ask him how he puts up with Devin all day, every day, but I mean, the guy's his brother, so…well, you know."

Leslie grinned. "Believe me, Steve isn't too thrilled about his brother's behavior either. Father and I gathered that much when we saw them right after your interview this afternoon. Oh, here he comes. Have a great evening, and don't forget to tell us about it."

"You got it!" Myeko promised happily, and Leslie started away, nodding and smiling at Steve's cheerful greeting as the two passed each other. Steve set down the drinks and let out an exaggerated sigh of relief, dropping into his chair.

"Whew, what a crowd! You weren't kidding when you told me the luau's the most popular event on the island. Do you come to many of these things?" he asked.

"Now and then," said Myeko. "Usually if we come here, it's because we haven't seen Leslie all week and it's our only chance to touch base with her. Leslie and I and a crowd of us have been friends since high school."

Steve nodded. "So you're buddies with Mr. Roarke's assistant, then. That's pretty cool. Hey, listen, I'm really glad you agreed to come here with me this evening. I have to admit, ever since I first saw you when you came over for that interview with Devin, I was determined to get a chance to know you better. Have you always lived here?"

"All my life," said Myeko proudly. "I was born and raised on this island, and I've never lived anywhere else in my life. And I never intend to leave, either."

Steve laughed and remarked, "I don't blame you. I wouldn't want to leave either! Is your family still here?"

Myeko nodded. "My parents are still in the same house I grew up in, and my younger sister Sayuri is an accountant for the pineapple plantation on the other side of the island. I have twin brothers, Taro and Tomi, too, but they live in Samoa, so we hardly ever see them unless they come back for a visit. My parents are talking about taking a trip there as a family—them, my sister, me and my kids."

"Ah, you've got kids," said Steve with interest. "How old are they?"

Myeko's eyes widened with momentary surprise. She'd been worrying all evening, ever since Steve had called and asked her to come to the luau with him, about what kind of reaction he'd have to the knowledge that she was a single mother. This sounded promising. "I have two, a boy and a girl," she told him. "Alexander'll be six the end of March, and Noelle turns four in a couple of weeks or so. Their father lives in Hawaii with his new wife."

"Aha, I see," said Steve, nodding. "My kids are the same ages. My son Zack will be six in the fall, and my daughter Janine was four in December." He smiled at Myeko's astonished look. "I have custody, too. Their mother went head over heels for this Italian actor she met when Devin worked with him on some movie about three years ago—not long after Janine was born, actually—and ran off to live with him in Italy." He took a slug of his drink and cleared his throat. "I've been taking Zack and Janine around the island to various places, but we didn't make it to the amusement park yet, so that's the plan tomorrow."

"Want some company?" Myeko found herself asking. "Alexander and Noelle would love to go back."

"Hey, sounds great," Steve said, brightening. "It's a date. What time?"

They settled on a time for him to come pick up her and the kids, and after that they chatted about one thing or another till the Hawaiian singing group, which performed once a month at the luaus, started their show with a lovely Hawaiian-language melody. Steve said, "Dance?" Myeko nodded immediately, and after that they never left the dance floor.

It might have been about nine when Josie finally caught up with Roarke and Leslie at the buffet table. Leslie was dreamily watching Steve and Myeko dancing, imagining herself and Christian in their place; Roarke was in the midst of an involved discussion with a couple of the natives manning the buffet. "Excuse me…Mr. Roarke? Leslie?" Josie asked tentatively, afraid of cutting in on something important.

"I'm sorry, one moment, please," Roarke said to his employees and turned to Josie, at the same moment Leslie came out of her reverie. "May we help you, Ms. Waring?"

Josie bit her lip and ventured, "I hope I wasn't interrupting anything. I really just wanted to say I was sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Leslie asked.

"You're not interrupting anything at all," Roarke added warmly. "Please don't feel you need to apologize."

"But I think I do," Josie said, sighing. "It's actually about my fantasy. I came here asking not only to meet, but to marry Devin Reilley, and now I know it isn't going to happen. I never should have expected so much from one fantasy."

"The weekend's only half over," Leslie told her. "You never know."

Roarke nodded, a little gleam in his dark eyes. "Leslie is right, Ms. Waring. After all, it has come to our attention that Devin Reilley is very interested in you."

Leslie nodded, a smile beginning to spread over her features. "I can vouch for that personally. I've seen him four times since we first got here, and each time he's asked me if I've seen you around."

"I hope you didn't tell him you saw me," Josie said, looking a little horrified.

"You didn't want him to see you?" Leslie asked. "Gosh, Josie, are you that determined not to let him find you? People can change, you know."

Josie made a face and said doubtfully, "They say leopards never change their spots."

"I've always found that adage quite peculiar, actually," Roarke observed with amusement. "After all, how can one compare an animal, which cannot grasp abstract concepts, to a human being, who can? It's quite true that, literally, a leopard can't change his spots…but Devin Reilley is not a leopard." Smiling, he eyed Josie with meaning just long enough for her to start looking thoughtful; then he suggested, "Try giving Mr. Reilley just one last chance, Ms. Waring. You may be very pleasantly surprised."

"Right. After all," Leslie added whimsically, "even a spoiled-brat matinée idol needs somebody to keep him in line."

Josie gave her a skeptical look, shoved her hands in the pockets of her shorts and stood there for a moment, obviously turning the idea over in her head. "I'm not so sure I want to be that someone anymore," she finally said.

Leslie put her hands on her hips and leaned in a little towards her. "You're a hard nut to crack," she said, her voice lightly stern, laced with a teasing tone. "Doesn't anyone ever get a second chance with you? What would he have to do to soften you up?"

Josie rolled her eyes. "Oh, seriously, Leslie," she scoffed.

"I _am_ serious," Leslie told her, sounding very much so. Roarke watched her with a little grin. "What would make you change your mind about him?"

After loosing a very loud and exasperated huff, Josie said sarcastically, "How about if he takes out a full-page ad in the local newspaper telling everyone what a cad he really is, and apologizing for being the biggest boor in Hollywood history? That might do it."

Roarke and Leslie looked at each other, and Josie's face assumed an expression of satisfaction…until Roarke said with a slight bow, "Your wish is our command."

Josie stared at them in disbelief, wondering if they really were serious. There were stories about this island, after all… She shook her head to herself, snorted quietly, and decided that they were probably just bluffing. They had to be: nobody could possibly make Devin Reilley express that much humility. "I don't believe it for a minute! If you can actually make that arrogant egomaniac apologize exactly the way I just said, then I'll…I'll…well, I'll spend my entire Sunday with that man."

Once more father and daughter exchanged glances, and Josie swore she saw knowing gleams in their eyes before they turned back to her. "In that case, check the paper tomorrow," Leslie said in a friendly tone. "Meantime, have a great evening, and don't forget to try some of the traditional Hawaiian dishes." She and Roarke nodded at their guest and melted into the crowd.

Josie watched them leave, and all of a sudden her stomach began to dance nervously in time with the latest fast-paced tune. She hurriedly departed the luau, trying to convince herself all the way back to her bungalow that not even Roarke could possibly talk Devin Reilley into that ad—even if the man were in love with her!


	5. Chapter 5

§ § § -- January 25, 1998

Josie slept late Sunday morning and was awakened only by a patient but persistent knocking on her bungalow door. She stumbled out of bed and to the main room, pulling the door open and squinting at the native islanders standing on the other side.

"Breakfast, miss," said one of them. Josie rubbed her eyes and managed to open them enough to get a good look at the wheeled table containing a large covered dish and a clean plate, atop which a cloth napkin had been folded to resemble a rose. There were utensils and a pitcher of orange juice; a small vase of flowers and the morning newspaper completed the setup.

"Wow," said Josie. "Okay, come on in." She moved aside and watched the natives swiftly roll the table in, set it up so that it was ready for her to begin eating, and then leave with nods and smiles. Josie smiled back, thanked them and closed the door.

"This is really cool," she murmured appreciatively, surveying the spread and taking in the breakfast menu. There was French toast, eggs sunny-side-up, a small bowl of fruit and another of oatmeal. Wondering what she had done to deserve the royal treatment, she sat down and dug in, picking up the paper and leisurely reading the front-page news items before putting down her fork and opening it up—only to gasp so hard she nearly aspirated a bite of oatmeal and began to cough violently. All the while she was gaping at the colorful advertisement that covered all of page three. There was a photo of a smiling Devin Reilley; atop the picture was an announcement in red block letters: **"I APOLOGIZE!"** Underneath the picture, in smaller red block letters, was the heading "TO ALL RESIDENTS AND GUESTS OF FANTASY ISLAND:" And finally, in regular black type, a short paragraph that read as follows: _"I, Devin Reilley, hereby apologize to all of you. I've taken advantage, steamrollered over most of you, belittled and criticized you, and taken you to task for the smallest things. I've been rude and uncivilized, unheeding of others' feelings, and generally a complete pain in the neck to anyone and everyone. In short, I'm a total cad. I'm going to change that, starting this very day. I understand that most of you reading this may not believe me; if you need proof, just come to the set of_ Beneath a Tropical Moon _and you'll see for yourself. Free autographs and tours of the set to all comers. I wish to extend a special thanks to Mr. Roarke, Leslie Hamilton, and a certain Miss J.W. for bringing me to my senses. Thank you for your time and your generous hospitality."_ Taking up most of the remaining space at the bottom of the page was Devin's sprawling signature. Josie stared at it in sheer amazement till she'd gotten control over her coughing fit, then sat down, lifted the page off the floor where it had fallen and reread the entire thing, trying to make herself believe it was real.

She ate the rest of her breakfast in slow motion, remembering in the middle of it that she had said she'd spend her entire day with Devin Reilley if Roarke and Leslie could get him to do exactly what he'd just done. It might not be so bad if he really meant it, she mused, but who knew? She glanced out the window. So far she had been left in peace, even though she could see by the little clock on the end table that it was well after ten. Maybe if she just holed up in the bungalow all day, they'd forget all about her.

Presently Josie finished her breakfast and had just decided to go back to bed and get some more sleep when there was another knock on the door. Either the natives had come for the breakfast dishes, or it was time for lunch, she thought. Shrugging, she went back to the door and opened it—only to see Roarke and Leslie there. Leslie smiled brightly, and Roarke said, "Good morning, Ms. Waring! Are you ready to join Mr. Reilley on his tour of the island?" He took in her comfy old bathrobe and raised both eyebrows. "It appears you aren't. Surely you don't intend to keep him waiting?"

"Especially after he apologized," Leslie added.

Josie closed her eyes and moaned as if someone had kicked her in the knee. "Do I really have to do this?" she whined.

"You said you would," Leslie reminded her. "You told us, in so many words, that if Devin Reilley took out a full-page ad apologizing for his actions, you'd spend your entire Sunday with him. Right, Father?"

"Precisely," Roarke concurred, "and since Mr. Reilley has kept his end of the bargain, it's time for you to do the same. We will give you ten minutes to dress."

"Fifteen?" Josie pleaded weakly. "I need a shower."

Leslie and Roarke looked at each other; in her distress, Josie missed the sparkle in their eyes. "Do you think we need to post someone at the back of the bungalow in case she tries to escape out the bathroom window?" Leslie wondered.

"I don't know," Roarke mused thoughtfully. "But it's worth consideration…"

"Please," Josie burst out in desperation. "I promise I won't try to run away. It's just that I can't believe it really happened. Are you sure he's really sorry?"

Leslie grinned. "About as sorry as you could possibly hope for."

Roarke looked puzzled. "Why else would he have taken out that advertisement?" he asked, with what sounded like honest curiosity.

Josie thought it over and sighed wearily. "Oh, all right," she grumbled. "I'll be back out shortly." She closed the door, and Roarke and Leslie grinned at each other, settling their stances for the wait.

When Josie emerged, she was fully dressed, although her hair was still damp. She carried a canvas tote bag and was pulling a brush through her hair. "Well, I suppose I'm ready," she said. "I'm telling you right now, though, I'm extremely skeptical."

"That's your prerogative, Ms. Waring, but you are obligated to give Mr. Reilley the chance to redeem himself," Roarke said pleasantly. "He will meet us at the main house, and you will have a jeep to use for the remainder of the day. If you'll come with us?"

The walk wasn't long, and sure enough, Devin Reilley was waiting in Roarke's office, sitting in one of the leather chairs whistling to himself. He stood up when the threesome entered the room. "Oh, thanks, Mr. Roarke and Leslie. Hi there, Josie."

"Hi," Josie mumbled warily, with a hooded look.

"The jeep is waiting for you in the lane," Roarke said. "You may leave anytime you wish, and we both hope you will enjoy your day together."

Devin grinned. "Oh, I definitely will," he said, "and I'll do my best to make sure Josie does too. Thanks again, Mr. Roarke, I really appreciate this." He turned to Josie and offered his arm, eliciting an astonished look from her before she slowly slid hers through it. Roarke and Leslie watched them go; then Roarke casually held out his hand, palm up, and Leslie playfully slapped hers palm down onto it before they both began to laugh.

"Our carriage awaits, my lady," Devin said cheerfully, handing Josie up and into the passenger seat of the jeep. "First stop, the hotel. Chef Miyamoto has very kindly agreed to provide us a picnic basket. Besides, I want to see if his wife's okay."

Confused, Josie watched him walk around the front of the vehicle and climb into the driver's seat. "His wife? What's wrong with her?"

Devin started the engine. "She had a baby yesterday—about three weeks early. I heard the labor took almost all day." He piloted the jeep along the lane and onto the Ring Road as he spoke. "I don't even know what they had, but once I find out I'm going to do some shopping for the kid. For that matter, I'll get some stuff for the whole family. They're going to have their hands full with a preemie in the house." Josie gaped at him openmouthed the entire time he was talking; she barely noticed when they pulled into the hotel parking lot. "Wanna come with me?" Devin suggested.

"Oh…s-sure," Josie said dazedly and followed Devin through the hotel lobby, where he waved genially at the desk clerks and beamed at all the folks having brunch in the dining room. Josie tripped over several chair legs from her amazement, and each time Devin caught her and asked if she was all right. By the time they'd reached the kitchen entrance, Josie's toes all throbbed from repeated stubbing, though she was hardly aware of it.

Chef Miyamoto came out and bowed a little to Devin. "What can I do for you, sir?"

"Could I impose on you for a picnic basket for myself and the lady here?" Devin asked, ultra-polite, shocking Josie still more. "I understand you're the most talented chef in several countries, and I'm looking forward to enjoying your handiwork."

The chef looked almost as surprised as Josie, but he smiled and bowed again. "Of course, Mr. Reilley, of course! Would you prefer to come in or wait out here?" Devin opted to watch, so he and Josie trailed the chef into the kitchen and looked on as he deftly assembled a delectable-looking lunch, packing everything into a large basket that came complete with plates, cutlery and even a red-and-white-checked picnic cloth. All the while they discoursed on the Miyamotos' new baby, a girl to be named Chikako. In about fifteen minutes the picnic basket was full, and Devin and Josie departed with fulsome thanks on Devin's part, mixed with a few faint ones from Josie.

"Okay, how about you help me do some shopping?" Devin asked cheerily once they were back on the road. "I hear there're some really nice shops in town."

"Yeah," said Josie and gave her head a very hard shake. "Right."

Devin peered sidewise at her, trying to keep at least one eye on the road, and let out a laugh. "I know, I know—you still can't quite get your head around the idea that maybe I really meant what I said in that newspaper ad, huh?"

"Well, that's part of it," Josie said. "What really gets me is that you even placed that ad to begin with."

"Oh," said Devin and laughed again. "Just between you and me, Josie, I admit to being talked into it. Mr. Roarke and Leslie tracked me down at the luau last night and took seats at my table without waiting for me to invite them, and then Mr. Roarke proceeded to guess why I was sitting around moping and told me what I could do about it. At first I thought he was insane, but Leslie assured me you were still plenty disgusted with me, and that if I truly wanted another chance with you, I'd do it."

"And I suppose you're going to tell me you did truly want another chance with me," Josie said with a sort of "harrumph" in her voice.

"Yep, I did," Devin said amiably, "and I still do." He pulled the jeep into a space in front of a shop and killed the engine, then shifted in his seat, reached out and gently turned her head till she was looking at him, however unwillingly. "I realize you're skeptical, and you have every right to be. But there's something I think you ought to know, something I already told Mr. Roarke and Leslie. I'm serious about you because you're the first person in years to stand up to me, tell me where to get off, and refuse to be either impressed or intimidated by my movie-star status. After you gave me that daiquiri shower at lunch yesterday, you stuck to your guns and kept chopping down my ego all day long…and the more you did it, the more I wanted to get through to you." He chuckled self-deprecatingly and looked away, a bit abashed. "For that matter, you got to me so much that by the time I agreed to put that ad in this morning's paper, I'd fallen half in love with you."

Josie gave him a long stare, still not entirely convinced, but wanting very much to believe him in spite of her better judgment. Finally she warned, "Don't exaggerate."

"Do you call this exaggerating?" Devin countered softly, tipping toward her and gently kissing her. Josie's eyes popped wide open and stayed that way till he deepened the kiss; then something else entirely crept over her and her eyes slid shut as she lost herself in the one thing she'd spent so many years dreaming about.

"Wow," she breathed when he finally pulled back from her.

"Do you believe me now?" Devin asked.

She regarded him quite solemnly for about ten seconds, then mused, "I think I need a little more convincing."

He grinned. "Happy to oblige." And he kissed her again, more thoroughly than the first time, till they absolutely had to come up for air. That was when they realized they had an audience, which when Devin and Josie looked around began to clap loudly.

They grinned foolishly at the gathered locals and then at each other. "Well, first of all, let's do some baby shopping, and then we're going off to a nice secluded picnic," Devin decided. "That way I can finish convincing you in private." Josie giggled and nodded.


	6. Chapter 6

§ § § -- January 26, 1998

"So," said Roarke Monday morning at the plane dock, "is the rumor true, then?" He spoke to a grinning Devin Reilley and a beaming Josie Waring.

"Every last gossipy word of it, yep," Josie said, showing off her diamond engagement ring to their hosts. "I was the biggest skeptic in fifty states and ten territories, but you did it, Mr. Roarke. I got my fantasy after all—both parts of it!" They all laughed; Devin shook hands with both Roarke and Leslie and loped off toward the plane while Josie hung back, seeing the expression on Leslie's face that said she had a question. "What's up?"

"Suppose he climbs back on that old high horse of his?" Leslie wanted to know. "What'll you do then?"

Josie smirked. "We reached an understanding last night at dinner in my bungalow," she said, addressing both Leslie and Roarke. "He stays humble, and I don't give him any more strawberry-daiquiri baths." She grinned and gave them a thumbs-up, then sauntered away in Devin's wake, leaving her hosts roaring with laughter.

The plane had vanished from the lagoon before Roarke and Leslie got full control of themselves again; the car pulled up to take them home, and Roarke suddenly seemed to remember something. "Oh, Leslie, wasn't your friend Myeko seeing Mr. Reilley's brother?"

"Yes, they looked like they were having a terrific time at the luau Saturday night, and I think they took their kids to the amusement park yesterday afternoon," Leslie said, sliding into the middle seat of the station wagon. "If things go the way I hope they do—and the way Myeko deserves them to—there might be another wedding in the Reilley family."

"Perhaps even in time for Mr. and Mrs. Devin Reilley to attend while he is shooting that movie," Roarke agreed, smiling. Leslie sat back in her seat and crossed her fingers, thinking of all she wanted to tell Christian in her next e-mail.


End file.
